Soldier of Fortune
by CheckeredSneakers
Summary: [The war was never pretty to see on the news reports at home, and it's positively ugly now.][PG13 for language.] Chapter II up!
1. Dazed and Confused

**A/N: **Wow, I'm pathetic. It's 1:30 in the morning, I'm writing dumb fanfiction while chewing my way through the 10 hours of j-rock, soundtrack, and MCR that's currently on this computer.

This is a continuation of Tin Soldiers. It's the same man, and it's up to you to supply his name and appearance, because I'm going to go as far as I can without giving any details about him personally. He could be an original character, he could be a canon character. It doesn't really matter. This is the story of the war told through the cynical eyes of a boy endured by trials far too rough for his age. Which you'll have to think up too.

I'm only working off what I know about the Midgar-Wutai war, which isn't much because they really don't give much information, so I'm mostly winging it.

Concrit is gorgeous, guys and gals, and depending on feedback I'll see whether to continue. My little Reno story has unfortunately been frozen in the world's biggest block so let me try and get back to that... someday.

------------------------

They poke and prod me through the door of the bunker. It slams shut on me and I'm left staring at it, wondering how it is that cages can keep people out just as well as it can keep them in. Still pondering this rather feeble thought I step over to join four more men in my rank, facing forward towards a superior (or so he calls himself) officer. He's certainly superior in stature, a large man whose custom-cut uniform still manages to strain itself at the buttons. Pins cover the left side of his jacket - I'm personally surprised that he hasn't fallen over from the weight of the damn things yet.

He barks a command in a harsh grating tone that scrapes across my eardrums, causing me to wince inwardly, and I obey unconsciously, not even really immediately aware of what the order was - only that I responded correctly. It's not really until later I realize he said "Attention", but it doesn't matter, because listening to him is really the last thing on my mind.

He begins briefing us on the situation, his voice still the same sandpaper texture it was when he was giving us orders. I try not to listen - he's giving me a bloody headache. I stand perfectly still but my eyes still wander about, taking in the scenery - the countryside of the Wutaian continent, which I'm sure would be really nice if we weren't, say, trying to completely destroy it - the weather, hell, anything I can so as not to focus on the task at hand.

I guess he noticed though, because he stops his tirade mid-sentence and closes his mouth. His eyes narrow and he walks up to me, trying to tower over me but failing miserably, mainly because he's only about an inch taller than I am. He contents himself with staring at me as evilly as I can, and I'm almost completely unfazed, except for the fact that at this range I can easily see the acid rim eating away at the natural colour of his beady little eyes. God _damn_ it. I can't stand that damn crazy tinge of green. I can't escape it. I can hardly look at myself in the mirror in the mornings for fear of finding one day that my eyes are no longer a blue-grey, but instead purely that unnatural and unnerving shade of green I despise so much. Though of course I get over that, because it's hard to shave without looking at a reflection.

"So," he growls at me. "You look a little dazed."

I say nothing.

"What's the matter, boy?" he asks, obviously losing patience even though he tries to disguise it. "Turk got your tongue?"

Still nothing.

"How about this, then, soldier?" He blinks for the first time. "Repeat to me what I just said."

I betray no emotion - because really, there aren't any to betray - and say simply, "I couldn't possibly, sir."

"And why is that? Mako on the brain?"

"I wasn't listening." Simple as that.

"Ah. I see. And why is that?"

"Didn't feel like it." Watching the vein bulge in his forehead is extremely satisfying.

Silence... then, "Drop and give me forty." I of course obey, because I'm done with my fun for right now. He knows just as well as I do that forty pushups aren't going to put a dent in the stamina of a SOLDIER, 1st class or otherwise, but I suppose he thinks it'll teach me a lesson. I get up, brush myself off, pick up my weapon, and fall back into ranks, but not without a glance at the soldier standing to my left, who is doing a very good job of concealing a slight smirk of appreciation.

"Now then," our superior says, "where was I..."


	2. Materia

**A/N: **Okay, I'm really really sorry I haven't submitted anything in AGES XD the spirit just didn't move me, I guess. Anyway, hopefully the wait didn't kill anyone, because our poor little Tin Soldier is just getting more verbal abuse this time around. Poor kid. I'd feel sorry for him, but that's sort of what he's there for. Concrit is lovely, as always.

------------------------

It's like learning all over again. All the shit they made us do in basic training gets thrown out the window. Swords? We've got new ones. Guns? We don't even use those, what the hell were we training with them for? And oh, the materia. Don't get me started on the materia.

They didn't even tell us about the materia until they were done airlifting the lot of us to Wutai. It's the most important part of Shinra's strategy and they didn't bother telling us about it until we were in shooting distance of the bastards, much less about how to use it. Which isn't quite as easy as how our superior officer makes it seem.

"Attention!" he barks, as usual, and we all mechanically snap to attention. As usual. He paces back and forth in front of us, pausing only slightly to glare at me... as usual. He still hasn't forgiven me for last week.

"Alright," he says, finally stopping his infuriating back-and-forth march, "This..." He picks up a drawstring bag lying on the ground and opens it, pulling out a bright green sphere, which glows in a friendly sort of manner. "...is materia.". He closes his hand around the ball of light, squeezing it lightly. I have no idea what he's doing, until suddenly his hand is engulfed in flames. My heart jumps into my throat and I struggle to keep from yelling in alarm -- or hell, even from blinking -- and try and keep my face arranged in what is supposed to be an expression of mild interest, as opposed to absolute terror.

He releases his grip on the materia and the flames subside. I half expect to see his hand entirely charred, but the flames didn't harm him, and he simply drops the ball into the bag on the ground. I glance over at the man standing next to me - Bryant Gamble, I think his name is - and bite my lip to keep at laughing at his expression. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs slightly open - it's obvious he didn't think to control himself the way I tried to. Obviously our commanding officer noticed too, because he starts laughing, though there really isn't any humour in it.

"That was the look on my face when they showed me what this thing did," he says, and picking the materia back up, tosses it at Gamble, who composes himself long enough to catch it. He looks down at it, slightly confused, and then back up at Officer Whatshisname.

"So uh, how does it work?" Our officer actually laughs.

"Just see if you can work it yourself, soldier. I won't be holding your hand when you're out there beating the shit out of those damn Wutaians, you know, so it's best if you learn without my help."

Gamble looks really nervous, but he tries. He tightens his hand around the materia, mimicking what was demonstrated earlier, and concentrated hard. The strain is apparent on his face. His effort pays off - sort of. A flame jumps into the air, and he is so surprised by his accomplishment that he drops the green ball. "Wow." He picks it up again and tries again - this time he's prepared and the flames jump higher, starting to completely engulf his hand.

Our officer actually cracks a halfway smile. "Good. Why don't you give it to someone else so they can try." Gamble passes the orb to the man on his left, who is easily frustrated and gives up, handing it over to the next in line. Most of them don't get it to work, but one or two manage to make a few flames appear before they pass it on. Finally it comes back over to the other end of the line and then to me.

Oh shit.

Our superior looks at me in the same way a cat looks at a mouse before it rips out its spine and eats it for an afternoon snack. I look down at the little green orb in my hand - not so friendly looking now - and back up at the officer, who I can only now picture as a huge fat feline for some reason. "Well?" he asks, growling at me again. "Are we waiting for something, boy?"

"No, sir..." I mimick what I saw - I tighten my grip on the materia and concentrate on making it work. It doesn't. I look up, sweating slightly. "Uh..." I swear he's going to sprout claws and fangs and pounce on me any second. I look down at the little glass-like ball and squeeze it again. This time I think of fire and explosions, and just as soon as I do, the ball bursts into flame, surrounding my hand and up onto my arm although I can't feel a thing. I'm so surprised I freeze, not even dropping it. He's impressed.

"Good job, soldier!" He claps his hand against my shoulder. I'm still holding my fist of fire, I realize, and I loose my grip. The flames subside. I hand the materia back to him, slightly dazed at my small accomplishment. Gamble grins at me.

"Good on you," he whispers. I grin back.

"Thanks."

"Attention!" Our Superior yells. We all snap to, just as we're trained to do. "That's good for your first try, men," he says, and he starts his annoying pacing again. "However, you're going to have to do better than that. Now, it's time for break." We start to fall out of rank, but he stops us once again. "But! There's a condition. If you managed to make the materia work, you may leave and take your free time as you wish. If you didn't, you all are staying out here with me and working until you do. Remember, this is wartime... be prepared. You may leave."

We fall out of rank and walk back to base camp, not saying a word - we didn't have to. Our first feat as SOLDIERS isn't a big one, but for us, it didn't really have to be.


End file.
